Eyes Like Yours
by Owlyn
Summary: CHAPTER 8 & NEW SECTION OF IT IS UP! *this will set the stage for ch 9....hint hint more updates will follow* response to Jessi's challenge: Ian wears the witchblade and Sara is his egnimatic protector. please r/r!
1. Pessimism and Assignments

Title: Eyes Like Yours  
  
Author: Owlyn  
  
Summary: response to Jessi's challenge. Ian wields the witchblade and Sara is his enigmatic protector, oh and did I mention that Irons is a woman? ;)  
  
A/N: thanxs Eli for all of u're encouragement and letting me 'borrow' some of u're mythology. Oh, and if u haven't already please read my other story (Fire and Shadows) and let me know what u think.  
  
Feedback: Of course, that and Vanilla Coke are the only things that rejuvenate my muses and cure my writer's block syndrome.  
  
Disclaimers: I do not own Witchblade or any of its characters, just the situation they are placed in. Don't sue me, the cost/benefit ratio is sooooo not worth the trouble/effort.  
  
Chapter 1  
  
The bench was hard and cold beneath her legs, just like my life Sara thought pessimistically before her thoughts turned once again to her target. Her mistress had been secretive about him, the wielder, wanting to make sure her servant's judgments of his skills were unbiased. She had sensed another, hidden motive present in last night's briefing. One that her mother, even in her mind she could barely bring herself to say the word without a grimace, had tried to conceal.  
  
"You serve only me, never forget that Sara. I raised you from a child. Without me you would have never risen above~ for you are peerless. But never forget that if it wasn't for me you would be nothing, less than nothing. Just another drone going about a sham of a life~ they all live in an illusion. Luckily, it is a profitable illusion for a woman of my caliber." Beginning her favorite part of the lecture, the one where she outlined her many accomplishments, she let her eyes study the mirror before her.  
  
It reflected herself, a seductively imposing woman with a waist length white blonde mane, and her servant clad all in black with the only color being her shoulder length auburn hair. She was too caught up in her pretense of a monologue, and was getting to her second favorite part~ the one where she made Sara feel worthless, to notice the glazed look on her servant's bowed face. Then before she could mask it something glinted in her eyes revealing that she knew all about Sara's budding independence. It angered her that her servant's free will was starting to surface after years of suppression. The only purpose of this after dinner 'chat' was to put Sara in awe of the mystery surrounding the next wielder; that and convince her that she was unworthy of looking upon his face, let alone have an actual relationship with him.  
  
Her head still bowed Sara began mentally picturing how her employer's smug face would look when her fist connected with it, or perhaps a foot? Once she tired of that form of distraction she focused on remembering full chapters of Dante's Inferno in hopes of figuring out which ring of Hell this encounter belonged in. Right as Irons wound up Sara decided that it was definitely only second, or maybe tops, third ring material after all it only lasted two hours compared to last weeks four hours. After about six and a half her voice tended to give out.  
  
"Sara, did you hear me? I asked you a question, now answer!" the normally impeccably controlled voice barked, Lilith briefly allowing her growing anger get the better of her.  
  
"You did? Sorry I did not hear you, you'll have to speak up next time.mistress."  
  
"You insolent brat! How dare you speak to me with that tone!"  
  
::Smack::  
  
With painful accuracy her talon like acrylics connected with Sara's face, the momentum leaving bloody trails down her cheek. Knowing that she would get no more reaction than a soft hiss of concealed pain Lilith casually brushed flecks of blood of her Gucci suit making a mental note to get it dry cleaned.  
  
Oh, ow that hurt like hell. Why oh why did I utter those shocking words out loud? How could I have been so stupid to break my control and strenuous conditioning. It is supposed to be there to protect me from such outbreaks of violence. At least I did not make the fatal error of calling her mother, thank God for small favors. Hopefully if I appear submissive and repent she will let me leave without a scar.  
  
"Now back to my question. What day will it be tomorrow?" she asked while threateningly cupping the cheek she had just struck. Getting impatient she roughly twisted her head so that Sara's fearful eyes met her own triumphant ones.  
  
"Eleven, Eleven mistress. The day the witchblade will come into Ian Nottingham's possession and begin the next chapter in the its existence."  
  
"Don't assume too much, he may yet turn out to be nothing more that a mere Pretender. Your assignment is to follow him, I will give you permission to speak if the need arises. Leave, I want you to begin your observations tomorrow morning." She smiled coldly knowing full well that Sara would be much too nervous to speak to him, ever. 


	2. Many Meetings

Chapter 2  
  
Turning on her heel Sara had an unnatural urge to flee, something she would never give Irons the joy of witnessing. That woman is just toxic! At least this new assignment will get me away from her and her temper. Abruptly she stopped and shook her head back and forth to clear it of these traitorous thoughts. First she was speaking her mind to her mistress what next~ actually reenacting one of her little combat fantasies that involved Lilith lying in a pool of ruby blood? Unsatisfied with the results of her self- therapy session she turned down the hall and headed outside. Maybe the cold air would help calm the turmoil in her head, she needed to be alert for any sign of the next wielder's aura. Lilith had not been obliged to provide a description.  
  
The purr of a blue Ford's ignition turning off startled her out of her reverie. Immediately she felt his presence and remembered that he was checking out some suspects in the murder of a prostitute. Personally she didn't feel much sympathy, but would never imply that since the victim was a close friend of Ian's. Feeling slightly nervous and excited to meet the next Wielder she quietly slipped into the shadows and took the back route to the Midtown Museum.  
  
"You know what today is? November 11th - Eleven eleven. Horoscope says today's a special day." Danny purposely asked while Ian had a mouthful of volcanic coffee, hey it's the small things in life...  
  
Sputtering and spraying coffee everywhere he replied, chocolate eyes flashing, "Don't tell me you buy into that shit. Besides, every day above ground is a special day."  
  
Worriedly Danny handed him some napkins wondering if his outburst had anything to do with the suspect they were here to see. Then he berated himself for wondering, of course it did. "You got a point there."  
  
Every time this subject comes up it's like someone's pouring salt in a paper cut, I know its been almost two months but I just can't help thinking I failed her. Ever since high school I've been there to keep her on the straight and narrow, then we graduated and everything changed. "Too bad Maria ran out of special days."  
  
The silence stretched out with neither making a move to fill it until Danny decide to bite the bullet and attempt to comfort his partner. "I know she was your friend. I know how pissed off you are."  
  
"We knew each other a long time. Gallo killed Maria. We just gotta prove it somehow." Moodily Ian resumed watching the building for the son of a bitch he had sworn to take down.  
  
Standing in the corner I attempted to hide myself from the witchblade, a futile effort since it can see through mind, matter, and flesh. The glowing red eye focused on me and I was assaulted with images from past lives. I felt the weight of time and past mistakes and misunderstandings pressing down on me. "Sara, Sara, why do you hide from me? You know I am the only one that can free you.is that what you fear?" echoed a masculine, commanding voice. She flinched at the intrusion and sank to the floor burying her head in her hands softly replying, "Because I have lost so much." In her mind myriad images of Ian dying in her arms throughout the centuries and her dying for him continued to play while tears streamed down her cheeks.  
  
"The Midtown Museum will be closing in 15 minutes. Please begin to make your way to the exits and thank you for coming."  
  
Catching sight of a familiar figure through the grimy car window Ian launched himself from his seat and slammed the door. "It's him, the asshole's coming out of that building up ahead." Impatiently he tugged on Danny's shirt.  
  
"All right, I'm coming. Can you ever remember him runaway from the cops? He lives on this interaction, but if you want to make his day fine by me."  
  
"I'll make his day all right, by throwing his ass in jail."  
  
"Before we go anywhere you are going to calm down. You shoot someone without provocation you go to jail. Take a deep breath and remember what your anger management counselor told you, or we aren't going anywhere."  
  
"Don't do anything you'll regret in ten minutes, alright can we go now?" Without waiting for an answer Ian started walking over to where Gallo and one of his employees were standing.  
  
"Buon giorno." Gallo greeted Ian, smirking at the look of pure hatred on his face.  
  
"Hey, Killer."  
  
"Hey. How ya doin'?" a more diplomatic Danny countered, wondering if one of them was going to leave in a body bag knowing the odds weren't lookn' so good.  
  
"Some people might say that this borders on harassment, Detectives." An amused, but wary Gallo stated while motioning to his employee discreetly.  
  
"We got three witnesses that put you next to Maria Buzanis only three hours before she was murdered." Danny interjected, trying to sound confident.  
  
"Well, who wasn't?" no one would complain if there was one less cop in New York, thought Gallo deliberately baiting an already pissed off Nottingham.  
  
"Hey, don't I know you from somewhere?" picking this moment to be perceptive Danny looked at Gallo's 'friend' for a moment before realizing that it was none other than Vespuchi.  
  
Almost instantly Vespuchi took his metal brief case and swung it at Danny's head. With the wind knocked out of him and laying on the tar black asphalt he fumbled for his gun. At the same time Vespuchi was about to fire when Ian's boot connected solidly with his wrist. "Ouch, you bitch!" Before the gun hit the ground he was off sprinting down the alley.  
  
Oh, shit I should have known he'd be too much of a much of a fucking coward to stand and fight. Focusing intently on the fleeing figure in front, only because he'd gotten a head start, he almost ran into the thick oak doors staring him in the face. Flinging them open he stumbled and slowed attempting to catch his breath. Turning down another corridor he stopped in front of a display case. Inside a finely crafted gauntlet lay on a blue velvet cushion. Awestruck he kneeled on the floor and watched as a piece of metal folded back like a dragon's lid revealing a fiery red eye.  
  
Looking into the glass he caught sight of a black figure standing behind him and whirled around guns trained.  
  
Sara stood with out blinking secure in the knowledge that a) he wouldn't actually shoot, b) if he did end up shooting she could easily catch the bullet, and c) he was the most beautiful man she had ever seen.  
  
Facing him was some kind of warrior goddess, he felt like his dark fantasies of the ideal, lethal and perfect woman had had life breathed into them and stood before him in her glittering emerald eyes. In her eyes he say an innocence all of his other dates over the years had lacked and even though she had yet to speak he knew that she was no stranger. The only thing that marred her perfection were the four longer furrows down her right cheek scabbed over with dry blood.  
  
Gasping she fought to control her face and emotions with it but failed. At last she could hold his gaze no longer and dropped her head to the floor, but not before catching something like compassion in his gaze. Confused she lifter her head back up and fighting to regain control over her body and voice said.  
  
"Magnificent, isn't it?" 


	3. Heat and Metal

A/N: Sry it took me so long and all.I've limited my excuses to two a.) high school sucks, b.) TNT is EVIL!!!  
  
Chapter 3  
  
"Miss, you really shouldn't be here.."  
  
Slipping back into public servant mode Ian mentally berated himself for coming up with such a lame reply. She probably thinks I work here! Who knows if I'll ever see her again, I just botched my chance to introduce myself.. At the mention of introductions anther part of his complex mind joined the argument. It's not as if she was exactly forth coming herself. I mean what chick just goes up to a guy and tells him he's magnificent! While the more egotistical side of Ian Nottingham was greatly taken with this reflection logic won out in the end: Idiot, she wasn't talking about you but about the gauntlet. How thick are you? You must be really desperate for ::some:: kind of a relationship if you think a gorgeous chick like that would go out with you. Now get over yourself and think of something better to say before she leaves!  
  
While the awkward silence stretched out Sara was waging her ::own:: internal battle. He must think me terribly forward; I can't believe I spoke to him! Mistress will have a fit.if she finds out. With this new, rebellious thought a honey slow grin lazily climbed across her face. Unbeknownst to her Ian had started to feel quite flushed by the mere presence of the smile that put the Mona Lisa to shame.  
  
"Uh, myname'sIanNottinghamdoyouwanttogotothemovieswithmeonSaturdaynight?" Oh, shit! Ian gasped realizing how stupid he had just made himself sound. I can't believe that I said that out loud! Faced with that sensuous, and knowing smile he had completely lost control.  
  
What the fuck! This time it was Sara's turn to gasp at both her language and the soon to be Wielder's request. Had he just asked her out?! Watching the flush crawl up his neck and over his forehead she swallowed tears. He was embarrassed and regretted asking someone as ugly as her out on a date. Her pervious euphoria fleeing she dejectedly completed the motion of lowering her head in order to hide the hurt now all too clearly reflected in her eyes.  
  
Confused, Ian watched as the hope died in her eyes and was replaced by the expression he had often witnessed in the eyes of the prostitutes and abuse victims that crowded the precinct. Beyond her lowered head, an annoying habit she seemed to have, he caught a glimpse of his prey: Vespuci.  
  
Before Vespuci could spot him he ducked down behind the case, belatedly remembering the green-eyed goddess. Not sure what to do he started to reach for her ankle.  
  
"Come on get down before puts some lead into you!" Ian urgently whispered.  
  
"I'll be fine Sir. Bullets do not hurt, much." A slightly suicidal Sara replied.  
  
"Stubborn bitch, get down here now!" Fearing for her life Ian lost control. Lightening fast he grabbed her ankle and pulled her onto the floor beside him.  
  
"You fucker!" Angry and hurt by the name-calling she pulled a small razor sharp knife from her wrist sheathe and threw it at the right side of his head.  
  
"Ouch, bitch!" Gasping Ian held his hand to the right side of his head in a feeble attempt to stem the trickle of blood and searing pain that accompanied the wound. "What was that for?" An extremely pissed off Nottingham questioned while trying to tug the weapon out from the side of the display case. It was a futile effort; the deadly blade was embedded deep within the wood. "I save your life and you attempt first degree? You really need to lighten up."  
  
"You called me a stubborn bitch!" Sara pouted in a fashion reminiscent of a hurt teenager.  
  
"Yeah, because you almost got both of us killed! You are coming into the station for questioning, end of discussion. Anyone that carries around illegal throwing knives, and that (pointing to the knife sprouting out of the side of cabinet) certainly qualifies should not be let loose on New York's streets."  
  
Thoroughly annoyed with this new turn of events Sara simply shook her head and attempted to calm herself in order to reason with him. Words of apology half formed on her lips she suddenly registered a clinking sound, but it was too late. Ian Nottingham future Wielder of the Witchblade had handcuffed her to himself!  
  
Smirking, Ian enjoyed the look of utter shock on her lovely face. "You are not going anywhere. Got that Bright Eyes?"  
  
"I got.Oh my God! It was the poisoned one!" Frantically, only because she hated anything that was a physical manifestation of her chains of servitude, Sara crawled across the floor bridging the remaining gap between them. One day she had seen Lilith use a similar move on a lawyer she fancied. Only that time her Mistress had been wearing a miniskirt and low cut top. Oh, and she had been on top of the giant oak table decorating the study too. Slinking toward him she plastered a look of concern onto her face (learned also by observing Lilith, but this time during her annual Cure for Cancer Charity Auction).  
  
"I might have to suck the poison out of the cut." She purred suggestively, knowing that if any of the security cameras recorded this she would be in for it. Distractedly she observed that Ian was blushing again and trembling slightly. Too bad that he's so afraid of the 'poison', she thought not knowing that ::she:: was to blame for his sudden lack of control.  
  
Dammit, snap out of it Nottingham, you're about to die from a poisoned knife~ stop thinking about how she would look in her bra and panties! Hmm, I wonder if she's the type to wear a thong.  
  
Noses to nose with a now sweating Ian Sara prepare for her guiltiest pleasure~ pretending to suck the 'poison' out of his wound. Knowing she'd have to get quite a bit closer to him in order to pull it off she prepare to test the limits of her training. With feline grace she straddled his lap and brought her hand, cuff and all up, to his head.  
  
With his breathing harsh and eyes out of focus Ian found his left hand, the one attached to Sara's, enfolded by her silken tresses. His eyes went wider when he felt her lips on the side of his forehead and her tongue drawing circles on his now fevered skin. If this was the way he went he had no complaints.  
  
The taste of his blood was potent and heavy like the sip of red wine Lilith had allowed her on her twenty-first birthday. It seemed like the few traces of it on her tongue were an exilier of pure power, immortality. In the distance recesses of her mind she heard a deep masculine laugh and felt the power in her ring awake. Through her daze she sensed someone, no Ian, wrap an arm around her neck and roughly her mouth to his. It felt like passion and fire, like lightening shot through her when their lips met. That was how she knew it was wrong, it was too perfect and she would be punished for it. Snaking her free hand into his shirt pocket her gloved hands found her ticket to freedom. The soft sound of concealed footsteps on tile cleared the cobwebs from her mind. In a flash she was free and had reclaimed her knife. In one twist of the ring upon her finger she was invisible, too. 


	4. Cops and Cell Phones

A/N: feedback is always appreciated, so keep those reviews coming!  
  
Chapter 4  
  
  
  
About to pull the enchanting, but inexperienced, stranger closer to his eager mouth he was shocked when where her safe presence was moments before only air remained. In fact he was so shocked that he opened his eyes and pinched himself, certain that it had all been an extremely realistic, not to mention erotic, fantasy. When the pinch hurt A LOT and the key to his handcuffs was gone he knew that he had been tricked. Despite that or because of that he still couldn't shake the feeling that he had kissed her before..  
  
"Thwomp, thwomp!" The sound of lead eating through the opposite side of his flimsy barricade jerked him abruptly out of his reveries. This was the third time that she had almost gotten him killed, he noted bitterly. Shoving the cuffs back into his pocket he hastily removed the gun from his ankle sheathe. "Thonk, thonk!" The shots decimated a display case over the hit man's head causing a rainstorm of glass shards. The shooter stepped further into the room and fired again, this time Ian was ready and missed him by only one inch instead of one foot.  
  
Running after the shooter through the maze of cases Ian quickly used up all of his bullets. Slowly Vespuci walked toward him, all the while deliberately aiming his shots. Ten feet away Ian dove over the nearest display case. While in the air he felt the numerous bullets whiz by him. This time the explosion of glass occurred below him and bit into his arms and chest. Inside the ruined display case a ruby opened and launched itself out of its prison and made contact with its new Wielder.  
  
Instinctively Ian threw his right arm in front of his face. "Ping!" The bullet ricocheted off the ancient gauntlet and hit a corroded gas pipe in the far corner of the museum. Walls of flame engulfed the room and Ian's past flashed through his mind. An infinite journey compressed into 3.5 seconds.  
  
**  
  
Outside Sara watched the museum burst into flames, knowing that the cycle had begun anew. After the fireworks ended she flipped open her cell phone.  
  
**  
  
Sitting in her office Lilith had felt the intertwined circles on her hand heat up as if she had brushed her perfectly French manicured hand through the flames directly opposite her desk, Sara would be calling her any moment now.  
  
"Ms. Irons.."  
  
Sara gazed at the charred ruins of the museum.  
  
".you won't be disappointed."  
  
"I hope not." Lilith responded smoothly while tracing her scars in the way one traces Braille to discover the hidden code.  
  
"He's everything you said he'd be." Sara said, in turn tracing her lips with one reverent hand attempting to lock the memory of his kiss in her mind. Permanently. 


	5. Britney and Balconies

A/N: Before u read any further I apologize if the dumb blonde jokes offend anyone. They are only intended to lighten the piece. Furthermore I, personally, am a blonde and in fact just lightened my hair to become blonder. K, now onto the story!  
  
Chapter 5  
  
Ian felt oddly disconnected. He only remembered a view unrelated sequences of events. He had met and made out with the incarnation of all of his fantasies. Then the next moment he was having a shoot out with the legendary hit man Vespuchi? It just didn't add up. Sitting on the back of the ambulance Ian was pondering just how he had survived the blast that had destroyed one whole floor of the (luckily empty) museum.  
  
"Hey, Nottingham." Gallo called out in a jovial tone.  
  
Apparently Gallo enjoys going to jail every once and a while, it must have brake up the monotony of his life. I mean drug deals and murder get old after a while. Approaching the squad car I'm careful to conceal any evidence of pain, I do not want this son of a bitch to know I am weak and injured.  
  
"Get your man?" he unwisely taunted.  
  
"Not yet, Gallo." I reluctantly conceded, at the same time visions of Gallo eating a bullet flashed rapidly through my mind.  
  
"Well you got one of mine. But I got more." Gallo started chuckle in a way reminiscent of how the Devil must laugh at the damned souls he presides over.  
  
It was the last straw for Ian who immediately started after Gallo fully intending to beat him to a pulp. That arrogant bastard seethed Nottingham. I'll get you one of these days, so smirk while you still can. Better sooner than later, if I could have my pick.  
  
"Don't do it, Ian. He's not worth getting a discharge over, although I'd consider it an honorable one even if nobody else did." Danny laughed, trying to ease his friend's tension. If Nottingham decides to act up today I sure as hell won't be able to stop him. "Cheer up, partner. I gotta go home to the wife and kids so our very own Britney Spears is gonna drive you home."  
  
"Oh, gawd no, not her! She'll just make my headache worse. You're pure evil Danny, I hope you know that." A distraught Nottingham muttered.  
  
"Don't you know it, bye Ian see ya tomorrow. Bright and early." Said a highly amused Danny, who was regretting not being a fly on the wall in Jackie's fire engine red convertible.  
  
**10 minutes later** "I know a guy who's in with Gallo. Maybe I can help you with that situation." Jackie winked drawing out the word 'situation' in a horrible parody of a seductress. After divulging this latest pearl of wisdom she looked meaningfully at a very stressed out Ian who was very glad that his loft was only 20 minutes away. Her whole point was to leave no doubt as to how she knew her contact and even less about what Ian would have to do to get such 'valuable' help.  
  
"Well, thanks Jackie. Let's talk about it tomorrow, ok?" Please let this ride be over soon.  
  
"How are you feeling, baby?" Jackie cooed, attempting to wear down his ever- present defenses.  
  
"My head hurts." And you're making it worse, thought a rapidly becoming pissed off Ian.  
  
"Ooh, I could give you a massage back at your place. My last boyfriend said that I'm was really good.at massages."  
  
"I think I'll pass." Replied Ian mentally shuddering. He could see it now: vanilla candles, Barry White, and massage oil. Yuck!  
  
"You were sooooo brave to go after Vespuchi like that. You know he's a mythic hit man on ::both:: coasts."  
  
"Really." He hated it when girls tried to play up to his ego.  
  
"Ah ... well, you're alive and all they can find of the other guy are his molars." She stated in a deceptively sweet tone of voice revealing why she had chosen homicide detective instead of Bay Watch Babe as her career.  
  
"Hey, you win some, you lose some." He said, trying to remain nonchalant.  
  
"So you really don't remember ::anything::?" Jackie asked losing patience.  
  
He stared at the red stone of the witchblade and was sucked into its swirling vortex. He was back in the museum looking into a display case. The witchblade was resting on a blue velvet cushion when the fiery eye opened. "No. Not, not really. Vespuchi and I were into it pretty thick, and then ... blam - it was all sort of ... uh ... hallucinogenic."  
  
"Hm, well do you mind if I turn on the radio?" Without waiting for an answer she turned to her fav station..  
  
"Hi this is Brandy at 69.3, All Britney All the Time. Hope you're all having a rocking Friday night! Now let's get this party started!" Ian groaned, his mental question of whether this night could possibly get any worse was answered in the affirmative. Here he was stuck listening to the Queen of the Blondes with the Blondest of the Blondes. Worse yet "Ooops, I did it again" was playing and at maximum volume, too.  
  
"You want me to arrest you for disturbing the peace with that crap, Jackie?"  
  
"Spoil Sport!" Jackie hollered above the deafening noise laughing at the expression of extreme distaste on his face.  
  
"Oh, look there's my apartment." Ian said very relieved to be returning to his Jackie free sanctuary.  
  
"Bye, sweetie! See ya in the precinct, bright and early!" Jackie screamed joyfully while swerving to a stop and literally 'dropping' him off. Ian couldn't believe that Danny and Jackie used the same expression, he made a mental note to bug him about that tomorrow.  
  
Trudging up the numerous stairs to his loft he thought about the mysterious girl from the museum. To pass the time he speculated about what kind of name a girl like that would have. Maybe Jade, Jacqueline, Gwen, or Marisa? Who knew. Throwing open the door he dropped his coat on the back of a nearby chair and his started to unbutton his shirt. It had been one hell of a long day and he just wanted to go to bed. Reaching for the light switch a voice stopped him.  
  
"You're disturbed. You feel you've lost control over life. Yourself." Sara stated head hung down, eyes on the floor in order to hide the wicked gleam in them.  
  
"Yeah, no kidding." What is it with that damn servant pose. You'd think we'd be on more familiar terms after what happened in the museum.  
  
"Don't worry. You never had any to begin with. Believe in the Witchblade, Ian. It believes in you." Gliding out of the shadows she slowly lifted up her head and smiled.. 


	6. Spiderman and Visions

Chapter 6  
  
  
  
The witchblade swirled and danced on Ian's wrist. It approved of this strange shadow girl and recognized her from centuries past. Maybe this would be the lifetime the Wielder and Protector would share, or not. The Controller was more powerful than ever, her influence greater than before due to their mistake in the time of David Bronte. The witchblade grimaced causing the chaotic depths of the stone to flash ruby embers of light. All of my carefully laid plans blown up in smoke by one miscalculation. A movement by the Wielder alerted the witchblade that time was running out~ for this encounter at least.  
  
Damn it all to hell, there's that smile again! Ian wasn't sure what came over him and later could only say that he and the mystery girl had incredible chemistry. In a blur of motion he wrapped one arm around her waist and reduced the gap between them to mere inches. She had only time to utter a soft gasp before their lips met. This kiss was the exact opposite from the one at the museum. It was slow, tender and unsure. No longer buoyed up by her need to escape Sara's reluctance and inexperience was more pronounced than ever.  
  
**  
  
"Fuck it! Goddamn it all to Hell!" Shrieked Irons, her scar still tingling from the contact.  
  
::Crash::  
  
A glass paperweight made contact with the wall and shattered. Taking a deep breath Lilith straightened her cobalt gray Channel suit jacket and picked up her PDA. With the delicate ebony hued plastic pen she wrote:  
  
Schedule for 11/11  
  
7:30 Procure security tapes from the Midtown Museum (print out useful evidence)  
  
7:40 Question Sara about the events preceding Ian Nottingham's possession of the Blade.  
  
7:43 Remove suit jacket, too many dry cleaning bills in one month  
  
7:44 Punish Sara for her deceit  
  
That done Lilith felt considerably better, or maybe it was just the absence of heat from her scar. Sara had recovered her wits and stopped things before they escalated.  
  
**  
  
It had all been too much, she was tired and when tired her conditioning to remain isolated resurfaced. In one smooth move Sara had incapacitated the new Wielder, one arm was twisted behind his back and he was kneeling on the floor.  
  
"Good bye, Lord Ian." Gracefully Sara leapt onto his balcony and dove over the edge.  
  
"Come back!" Ian, about to have a heart attack, looked over the edge of the balcony expecting to see his green-eyed beauty splattered on the pavement. Leaning fully over the edge he was amazed, and relieved, to see not one trace of her. On the under side of his balcony Sara was shivering from the cold and at the same time attempting to suppress her laughter. The look on his face was utterly priceless. Somehow sensing her mirth Ian's look of relief turned to anger.  
  
"Damn it! I don't even know your name! Although I suppose you'll find me when you feel like seeing me again. My own personal stalker, what a hell of a early Christmas gift." Ian muttered to the air around the balcony, sensing via the witchblade that she was still there and within hearing range too.  
  
Her eyes clouding with hurt Sara wondered how his mood could have changed so quickly. Climbing down the side of the building she realized that she was going to be late for her meeting with Irons. What a perfect ending to such a fucking perfect day.  
  
Ian felt a nagging sense of guilt for his last comment, something the witchblade latched onto by giving him his very first vision.  
  
~*~  
  
The witchblade swirled violently and suddenly Ian found himself in a large chamber. After his eyes slowly adjusted to the warm light leaking from the fire adorning the far wall he was able to discern a small girl with chestnut brown hair. She was curled up in the far corner and reading an aged manuscript.  
  
Cautiously he walked toward her. "How the hell did I get here? And where the hell is here?" almost said out loud but caught himself just in time. Disgruntled Ian decided to settle for a simple query as to where they where. Just as his mouth opened a beautiful twenty-something blonde walked in. She exuded power and an icy coldness. He imagined that a siren from Greek mythology would look much the same as this woman.  
  
"Sara, what have I told you about neglecting your training?"  
  
"But mistress this *is* part of my training!" A 7yrs old Sara pouted.  
  
"How are Victorian romance novels part of your training, dear?"  
  
"They will help me to know how to act with the Wielder when I am older, mistress." Sara reverently placed an equally aged red ribbon to mark her place.  
  
"Ah, Sara it is not the protector's place to know love, with the Wielder or any other man...Always remember the less emotional attachment you have the less vulnerable you'll be. Isolation is safety virginity is invulnerability."  
  
Ian's eyes widened in realization, the young girl was his green-eyed beauty and that little exchange had just solidified all of his theories: shadow girl, Sara, was a *virgin*.....  
  
Ian wrestled his consciousness from the witchblade after feeling a tell tale splat of moisture hit his forehead. The only thing he hated more than mornings was rain, while the one was still a few hours away, the other wasted no time in soaking his mane of hair.  
  
Reaching up to close the window to the fire escape his thoughts again turned to his two revelations: a.) he now knew his green-eyed beauty's name, Sara and b.) she was a *virgin*! His mind added the exclamation at the end of that one still unable to process how she had managed to seduce him. Was he really so lonely that *any* kiss had such an effect on him? ****Smack****  
  
Suddenly he felt a sharp pain on his right temple, the same one that had been wounded earlier that night. Cursing he glanced up almost expecting to meet the eyes of a murderous Sara, only to be mocked by the reflection of his own in the glass of his window. Get a hold on yourself, man, a window today a bullet tomorrow. Bruised and bedraggled Ian stepped back and allowed the window to seal his loft off from the elements. Shaking his head and cursing Sara he barely managed to stumble to his bead before collapsing.  
  
The witchblade glittered on his wrist vainly attempting to smirk...his new host was very wrong if he thought the visions were done with....they were just beginning....  
  
****  
  
Dejectedly Sara climbed spider like down the building. Only her innate balance kept her from falling the remaining three stories.  
  
She had sensed the witchblade's discontent and the effort it had taken the omniscient blade to plant the vision in his anger- clouded mind. The sides of her mouth curled up wryly, this new wielder had a quick and brutal temper...that was what separated him from the numerous pretenders. They had all been hand picked by Lilith for their apathy and indifference. Most of them were now either in jail, or the one's who angered the witchblade the most were outfitted in their very own straight jacket and padded cell. Her half smile turned to a grimace when she remembered what the witchblade did to pretenders:shook them around like broken dolls and left them broken men who still hungered for it with animal like intensity.  
  
While that anger confirmed his identity, it also cut deeply through her armor and scorched her undeveloped heart.  
  
*Splat*  
  
Reaching the ground she felt a drop of water hit her cheek, turning her face up to the heavens she could discern clouds but knew that it would be at least five minutes before rain reached New York's thirsty asphalt. Cautiously she reached a hand up to her face, it was not blood the constituency was all wrong, but it was not water either~ too much salt.  
  
Feeling a tightness in her chest and a sob threatening to voice her humiliation to the world she realized a horrible truth~ the detached and contained Sara Pezzini was crying. Lilith would have her head for this...  
  
The heavens let loose their own volley of tears, commiserating with the girl who had never known love, kindness, or any emotion other than cool detachment and anger. 


	7. Threats and Dreams

Chapter 7  
  
Approaching the periphery of her mistress's grounds Sara began preparing for the worst by squaring her shoulders and freeing her psyche from the confines of her mortal body. Lilith valued punctuality above all other traits save apathy and malice; this was not going to be a pleasant experience by any stretch of the imagination.  
  
Reaching a guard wall one would expect on a castle, not a mansion; Sara smoothly swung herself over the demonic spikes and bits of glass sprouting from the 'fence'. The fence troubled her at a base level of primitive knowledge stored deep in the memory of her blood. Spikes had only one purpose back in the times of the wielder King Arthur and that she-demon Morgan le Fay: to hold the heads of ones enemies. Once on the other side Sara received a reminder from the witchblade in the form of a snake slithering sinuously around a stake on top an ancient battlement. Atop the spike her own sightless eyes stared back at her while ravens sung a discordant chorus of death. The snake writhed and melted, transforming into a woman with iced over cerulean eyes and long, ashen hair. Shuddering with the visual validation of her theories, and the veiled threat to her continued existence, she expertly picked the lock on the intimidating oak door.  
  
She could count the number of visions the witchblade had graced her with on one hand, and they were always portents of doom. Entering the lavish, royal blue carpeted foyer that reeked of elegance and dominance she was greeted by one of Lilith's many 'diversions', an attractive man around thirty who was mostly likely an aspiring actor or accountant. Either would do, Lilith was only picky when it came to their ethics, or more specifically their lack of.  
  
Snapping himself out of a daydream starring himself, a vault full of gold, and Lilith as a blushing bride, the accountant (in this case) rudely stuck a silver tray under Sara's nose. Nodding her acknowledgement of his worthless presence she deliberately lifted her eyes to his face in a manner reminiscent of Lilith, promising that showing such insolence would be adverse to his five year plan of getting rich and marrying the devil herself.  
  
Now it was his turn to lower his head in fear of the utterly blood chilling hatred that lurked below the controlled surface of this girl. The girl that his wealthy benefactor owned. Shaking, he moved the antique tray back a fraction of an inch. Sara smiled and deliberately picked up a miniscule square of linen paper with her leather-clad hands.  
  
"You may go.though I doubt my mistress will be requiring any further services. She generally deals with prying eyes by shutting them, permanently." She smirked slightly, and dropped her gaze back to the note and the one fingerprint marring it's surface. Sara did not bother to look up when the silver tray hit the floor with a muted thump and a small breeze ruffled her hair. Unfortunately, for him he could run, but as the saying goes, not hide. With previously hidden in trepidation she unfolded the note..  
  
Sara,  
  
You are quite worn out from your expenditures on this most eventful of days and therefore I have graciously moved the meeting you were not inclined to attend to tomorrow at 1pm. You will arrive promptly or I will be forced to take preventative measures.I advise you to assume that I have seen and heard everything. Consider this, for it is the fortune and fate of all infatuations~  
  
Gaze no more in the bitter glass  
  
The demons, with their subtle guile.  
  
Lift up before us when they pass,  
  
Or only gaze a little while;  
  
For there a fatal image grows  
  
That the stormy night receives,  
  
Roots half hidden under snows,  
  
Broken boughs and blackened leaves.  
  
L. Irons  
  
Dropping the note as if it had burnt her hands, she slipped through a hidden door. The offending slip of paper was left on the ground like a discarded flag of surrender. Desolating muffling her anger and senses she finally found the way of the labyrinth of tunnels. Exiting the tunnel from a convenient vent located near the base of her bathroom wall Sara threw herself violently onto the elaborate four poster bed dominating her entirely black room and succumbed to the welcome oblivion of sleep. But the witchblade had other ideas.....  
  
~*~  
  
It was a dark night. A night when evil walked, masked in the guise of a Nazi soldier. The waning moon failed to penetrate the foot thick fog enshrouding the warren like streets of Paris. Sara stretched and shifted aching muscles. At last growing restless and feeling faint from accidentally locking her knees she perched lightly on the edge of a wooden bench. Once, twice, her eyelids drooped and twitched open again. The fatigue heavy orbs at last overpowered her, concealing jewel-toned eyes. Jerking awake at the sound of muffled footsteps echoing off coble stone she boldly reached into her trench coat for a gun. It was merely for intimidation purposes~ she possessed much more powerful, not to mention painful, weapons.  
  
  
  
"Sie finden die ganze mein Kennzeichen in der Ordnung. Verlassen Sie jetzt, Sie wünschen mich nicht als Ihr Feind."  
  
(You will find all of my identification in order. Now leave, you do not want me as your enemy.)  
  
"Entspannen Sie Sich, Sara. Ist die irgendeine Weise, Ihren Teilnehmer zu grüßen?"  
  
(Relax, Sara. Is that any way to greet your associate?)  
  
Two strong arms descended onto her shoulders. She desperately fought the urge to put physical distance between her and her 'assailant'. Struggling to appear unruffled by his proximity she fluidly switched to English.  
  
"Ah.Mr. Bronte. Has it been a productive evening satiating the Blade's bloodlust?" Sara smirked. She already knew the answer to that~ the scent of freshly spilled blood (not his) and sweat (his) lingered still.  
  
"How can any form of lust ever be truly satiated?" he whispered, his breath teasing against her ear while running a finger down her cheek with agonizing slowness.  
  
Swallowing, she was thankful that she was seated; the sensations and emotions he provoked unnerved her. Forcing a coldness she did not feel into her voice she replied, "A mirror image of Ares.pity. You are destined for more than a life stained in crimson."  
  
"Perhaps. though bloodlust is a powerful thing. Desire for revenge. The desire for control. Should you control that desire? Or is it better left unleashed?" Skillfully he produced a thin piece of black silk from his sleeve. In one deft motion he secured it around her mesmerizing eyes. Gently he smoothed her hair away from the silk.  
  
"You're disturbed. You feel you've lost control." Ian snorted derisively at the irony of the comment~ he was not the one currently blindfolded.  
  
"Don't worry . you never had any to begin with. Believe in the Witchblade, Ian. It believes in you."  
  
"If one cannot live ferociously ... why live?" He queried, sitting on the edge of a fountain meeting her veiled gaze. He could not help thinking that her eyes, even when exposed, only reflected and never revealed.  
  
"True, without his flame the dragon is nothing." Sara conceded enjoying the battle of wits between the spy and assassin, wielder and protector. "Ah.but what is your flame? The witchblade. Your temper. Your uncontainable fury of hatred and thirst for revenge...You are much like the very code you seek to unravel~ an Enigma cloaked in a conundrum."  
  
"You, you are my flame.the witchblade is merely a conduit, but you are the inciting force.never let the embers within your fortress of a heart be quenched, Sara." The heat in his voice was answered with a barely audible gasp.  
  
With casual grace he stood up and closed the remaining distance between them. Slowly he sat down beside her and cupped her face in the hand not encumbered with the Blade. While with his other hand he pinioned her hands behind her back. Brushing his finger across her lips he sucked in a breath when she nipped playfully at him, then smiled wickedly. At that moment he could have sworn he saw at pair of opal fangs slide from their sheaths~ it was just an illusion generated by the gauntlet. Catching him off guard again she leaned forward and lightly bit the side of his neck, then licked the mark. She moved up to his ear and playfully nibbled the edge. At last she ceased the torment and captured his mouth in a kiss full of fire and the crispness of raw ice. Grabbing a handful of her lustrous hair he pulled her onto his lap and bit down on her full lips...  
  
Just then the witchblade extended into full gauntlet form and a silver blur ricocheted off of it to sink into flesh. "Oh.Ian." Sara shuddered and attempted to speak.  
  
Staring in horror at the crimson stain beginning on her chest and the witchblade still in gauntlet form Ian screamed a battle cry of rage and tore it from his wrist. Ping.ping.clank.the witchblade rolled, to rest at the base of the fountain, its eye swirling malevolently. "Sara, NO.the ring.call on its power!"  
  
Covering the wound with his hand he sought frantically to stem the blood loss. "Ian.solve the Code.others will die.her cravings know no bounds.the war." Sara shuddered and coughed up blood. Desperate, she grasped the thread of her life force and allowed herself to channel the full power of the ring. Regaining a few minutes of her life her eyes glowed a feral yellow with the effort and closed only to flutter open again.  
  
Staring in shock at the power that now possessed his consort he trembled involuntarily. "What do you see? Will Germany be victorious.democracy laid waste? Who is this woman?"  
  
Laughing raspily she coughed once and spoke, ".you never consider the bigger picture do you? As for the woman.mother of all demons.shunned by Adam.you know her! Do not loose faith!" With feverish intensity she grasped his hand one last time and was still.  
  
"How could you take her from me Blade? Thing of evil! How could you make me kill the very one I treasure most? I will not serve You; find another slave to do your bidding! I never asked for this 'privilege' and I don't want this duty!" After he finished his tirade the witchblade defied gravity and with magnetic intensity clamped back onto his wrist. For a few moments he struggled futilely to remove the sentient cuff but eventually gave in to his despair and anger.  
  
Tears raining down his face he leaned over her and kissed her cold, lifeless lips a last time. Still kneeling beside her he whispered into her ear words that would transcend both life and death.. ~*~ 


	8. Phantoms and Plots

Beep, beep, beep..  
  
The jarring sound of two alarm clocks shattered the gossamer thread connecting two consciences.  
  
***  
  
Sara hated her alarm clock~ it was chrome and screamed 'Irons' who had, in fact, given her the offending object one Christmas. Moreover, the color successfully refracted the brittle rays wintry sunshine directly into her eyes. Undoubtedly engineered in its design. Then there was the ringing, just high pitched enough to generate a splitting headache in under 5 minutes. Yet another engineered 'asset' of Lilith's thoughtful gift. Hurling her self out of bed, she tottered into the adjoining bathroom to begin her morning ritual. This included taking a quick shower to finish what the alarm clock's work and applying what little makeup Lilith's keen eyes would be unable to detect.  
  
Hazarding a glance into the mirror, her eyes were immediately drawn to a ruby stain adorning her chest. "Holy shit!" The white tee shirt she had worn to be now was sporting a fist sized stain of wine?....no....blood! She carefully touched her fingers to the stain. Her eyes widened imperceptibly to find it dry. It was as if whatever had wounded her had done so at least a day....or a night ago. Lifting up her shirt she was even more startled to find the skin itself unmarred. Thinking out loud she screeched, "Damn it all to hell! Lilith is gonna be pissed if I ruined her designer sheets!" feeling better; she began retracing her steps back to the four -poster bed, fully prepared to burn the evidence if necessary. Looking down at the pale pink sheets Sara gasped~ they were completely devoid of blood. Death, gunshots, a swirling red eye, and a single anguished scream flickered behind her eyes.  
  
***  
  
The persistent beep, beep, beep of Ian's alarm clock obliterated his sorry excuse for sleep. Slitting his eyes, he was almost overwhelmed by a sense of anger and blame directed towards the witchblade. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, his hand encountered beads of moisture dotting his cheeks. Had he been crying, and if so why? So many unanswered questions, he groaned into his pillow. Ian's blurry eyes widened when he saw his left hand~ it was dominated by a red stain. He was familiar enough with death and its markers that the dried blood was easily identifiable. Holding the hand in question under a lamp for better viewing he examined the spot. It was dry but still glowed an angry red. Straining his memory, he attempted to recall the dream that had robbed him of sleep for most of the night. The only fragment the witchblade deemed to reveal was a pair of emerald green eyes.  
  
** Shadows skittered and a light breeze ruffled the gauze curtains of Lilith's ebony four poster. This had the unsettling effect of a mockery of movement. Rumination on these sprightly phantoms conjured faces of others no substantial than her bed's diaphanous drapings....and having just as much substance, some even less. Lilith prided herself on her thoroughness, she chuckled lightly thinking on all the birth certificates and public records that had been "altered" over the years. Yes, when someone displeased her they were not simply killed---no, they were utterly extinguished, every trace of their existence wiped clean. Her thin lips twisted wryly remembering the accountant and her fingers yet itched for a knife. That one had not lasted long under her methods. Lilith had acquired a taste for doing her own dirty work over the years---in fact that was what had drawn her to the CIA in the first place. A sound as soft as a cat's steps was filtered out of the vast quiet---Sarah must be up.  
  
In the predawn darkness Lilith grimaced---Sarah had been extremely negligent of her duties as of late. She's certainly long overdue of another reminder of who's truly in control. The thought made her smile, and this time genuinely. She would genuinely enjoy extracting Sarah's penance. But how best? The girl is impervious to most physical torment I could devise.....and yet she is not invulnerable no matter how hard she tries to be....perhaps something involving that imbecilic detective the blade has taken a fancy too. Yes, some act that would discredit my pet assassin in his eyes and allow me to complete my carefully orchestrated seduction and betrayal.  
  
** 


End file.
